A Map of Threed
by EBJim
Summary: SM.net Halloween Funfest entry - Captain Strong looks for an answer while stuck in Threed
1. I

It was the beginning of October, a few years after the infamous 199X. I'm not sure how close to the beginning it was. That kind of uncertainty can happen after taking the kind of shot I took that night. I was wrapping things up in my office when this blonde broad walks in, smoking in both ways like the dove that took the fastball from Randy Johnson. She comes in wearing the typical Dukes of Hazaard outfit. "Hey, hun," she said as she slowly, seductively took her dark sunglasses off. "You Captain Strong? Police chief of Onett? The only guy in Eagleland to have lived up to that 'I always get my man' promise?" She questioned me in a voice that combined the best qualities of those of the typical farmer's daughter and Jodie Foster with the southern cuteness thrown in more casually than whatever spice Emeril feels is appropriate for his dish.   
  
"Yeah. That's me," I said in my dull Eagleland accent. "This ain't France, babe. You gotta put that thing out," I reminded her on the wad of smoldering tobacco in her mouth.   
  
"I didn't think you'd notice," she said coolly as she flicked the cigarette out of the window. "So I need you to take a job. How much y'all need?"   
  
"What'll it be? Investigation? Execution? Sinister Interrogation?"   
  
"The first," She said as she slid a small piece of paper across the desk. "That's my neighbor's address. My neighbor's dog? I think it's been pooping in my lawn. You up to the task?"   
  
"No deal, babe. I don't do waste."   
  
"Well, I think the dog has been having an affair. With my dog."   
  
"I'll take it. Four grand, half now, twice as much later. No questions, no tricks."   
  
"God bless you, Captain Strong," she said as her hands, one of the best looking sets I had seen since Meryl Streep's in the 80's, forked over the cash. She left and I was preparing to do the same. I got the gun, the coat and most importantly, the hat. I locked the door and made a stop as I went down the hall.   
  
"Cage, you here?" I entered the dark, motionless room. The guy I was looking for was in the middle of the room, in the middle of an interrogation. He was busy staring his man down.   
  
"Well, are you going to do anything or do you hope to make me answer your pitiful questions to stop the silence?", the other man asked manipulatively and evilly.   
  
"What do you think, you people eatin ron?"   
  
"Quite logical. Almost as logical as taking you, a convicted criminal, off the street and putting you in such a slow and careful case. Wouldn't you agree, agent xXx?"   
  
"Ain't nothing but truth behind that, Lecter."   
  
"You ignorant fool. During these few minutes of silence we have shared, I have concluded solely by the tone of your voice that you have something in your past that haunts you deeply."   
  
"Yo jigga, that ain't cool."   
  
"Do not deny the past, agent Cage. You know that," the cannibal said slowly. Slow enough to get interrupted by the straightforward xXx.   
  
"You know what I know? Yo momma was a whale."   
  
"Well, it's quite obvious from your painful, expletive-inducing cologne and style of dress that your mother was fat. So fat in fact that upon the rare occasion that she decided to make a trip to the cinema, she ended up sitting next to everyone."   
  
"Oh yeah?", xXx asked rhetorically, aggravated and confused. "Well, yo momma was a," he struggled in his search for a proper insult and went for a smack to the face instead. His hand was bitten off by Hannibal and was slowly drug to the insane murder for a full meal.   
  
After deciding that agent Cage was a bit too busy to do some work, I left the room and went into the lobby. The only other person there was the local crossing guard. I got some coffee and asked her if she was busy. I wasn't sure what she was working on, but she wasn't reluctant to put it down. "You busy, Miller?"   
  
"Call me Angela. And I'm not too busy. What do you need?"   
  
"I'm going out to pull a job. You want to come?"   
  
"What do you need me for?"   
  
"Not much. Mostly backup, but you'll probably just end up taking my notes." She was in and we went out into my nice 2002 Ford. You can't beat American. Unless you're BMW. Then you might have a chance. That SUV of theirs looks like it could blow up a tank. We drove over to the place on the sheet of paper. Angela had this obsession with her cat. Not sure what the deal with that was. But she shut up about Mr. Furkins when we arrived at the house. I told her to back me up and to be ready to shoot. That old "shoot and/or explode first, ask questions later" method has never failed me. I rang the doorbell and there was no answer. Inspired by European action films, I told Angela to wait to the side and got into my car. I started it up, got the wheels going and made my charge towards the stairs. I took a sharp turn when I reached them, but didn't expect to donut the stairs out. Somehow, the tire went flying off my car and killed enough of the door to reach in and unlock it. I unlocked it with my faithful crossing guard right behind me.   
  
I slowly peered in then jumped out after some gunshots. I had some trigger happy backup. "What was that?", I asked, obviously shocked. I began to go on and saw that apparently, she shot a zombie.   
  
"Well, I felt he was a threat."   
  
"Enough of a threat for some shooting?"   
  
"Sure. He was a zombie."   
  
"He could have been someone dressed as a zombie. There has to be some logical explanation for this. Maybe he's working on his Halloween costume. He could be doing something for his friends. Maybe he wants to scare one of them or he could be playing a role in one of their two thousand dollar movies. He could be getting ready for some kind of screwy horror movie convention." As I went through the logical possibilities, the zombie had gotten up and eaten my temporary assistant. I got my gun out and was about to shoot the undead mofo, but was struck in the back of the head and fell to the ground faster than a John Deere tractor trying to support an NFL lineman.   
  
I woke up on the ground. It was dark, but it was obvious that it was still day. I didn't have too much time for observations. As I woke up, the first thing I noticed was something poking my head. I instinctively grabbed for something in front of my head and threw the poker to the ground. Then I went to the left side, punched the poker in the gut then threw him into a nearby tree. I don't remember looking directly at that tree. It must have been a peripheral thing. I threw the punk's friend into the tree with him. Then I looked at the attackers themselves. They were elementary school kids. I looked around, got two nearby bikes, threw them into the wall and placed them at the scene of the attack. I'm pretty sure it looked enough like a biking incident.   
  
I roamed the streets a bit more. Finally, I found the pizza place. You can find everything in those Mach Pizza places. "Hey, can I get some service?", I demanded. Not as charming as I would have liked, but let's see you pull off the Bond act after being knocked unconscious and dumped off in the middle of the street.   
  
Finally, someone came up to the counter and said, "Sorry, we only deliver. I can give you the number if you want!" She had the company card ready and a smile wider than their pizzas on her face. Aesthetically pleasing, but it was obvious that it wasn't the most natural smile out there.   
  
I took out my wallet and looked in; I had more cash than some of the criminals I've busted. And I've busted some good ones. Criminals with enough money to make Blofelt look ordinary. I slid $500 across the counter. "You sure you can't do anything about that?"   
  
"Ok, but don't tell anyone about this," she said unusually hesitantly.   
  
"Just get me a few slices of cheese. Or a full pizza if it'll be too much of an inconvenience to do part of a pie. Oh, could you get me some information to go as well?"   
  
"Full pizza it is. What kind of information? The ordinary price? The dimensions of the pizza?" A slight pause followed. "Our phone number?", she asked, flashing that warming smile again.   
  
"No, the simple stuff. Like where am I?"   
  
"You're in the Threed Mach Pizza branch. Founded in 1957, renovated 1968, 1981 and 1997. In 1980, we became the first Mach Pizza to…"   
  
"Hey, I just wanted to know where I was. I'll come back for the tour later. So is there any bus I can take? Taxis?"   
  
"None. I haven't seen a taxi or bus in years. It could be because the tunnels are blocked by ghosts and zombies and everyone who tries to get through either gets eaten or dismembered and disemboweled." The smile was glued on her face. Ah, the wonders of botox.   
  
"Reasonable enough. I would have just gone for a Masterlock. So is my pizza almost done?"   
  
"Not yet. You can wait next door in the bakery if you want. We'll just make a quick trip there and dump it off. They love to have company."   
  
I was desperate to leave that horrific pizza joint and went into the bakery. I was greeted warmly by a shotgun, but I'm not sure if that clicking had a double meaning. "Who are you?," the man sharply demanded.   
  
"Captain Strong of the Onett police force."   
  
"Good enough. You can never be too sure with all these zombies running around eating brains as casually as we drink Coca-Cola."   
  
"I heard about that. Care to give me a bit more?"   
  
"Sure. Zombies have taken over the town, but they come out mostly when it gets dark. They've taken over the cemetery and the hotel."   
  
"Aw man, now where am I going to sleep now that both of those are infested with zombies?"   
  
"Right here. You're stuck in Threed until we find some kind of zombie raid that kills them dead. We don't know what they want. Probably our brains, slavery or world domination. Something like that. We'll be meeting in town hall - the tent - tonight to discuss this. For some reason, the tent is the only place that is and probably will always remain zombie free. There's a lot more room than you'd think, so I suggest that you come."   
  
I was about to agree, but someone barged in only to have his brains blown out by the trusty shotgun. It was the pizza delivery man. I picked up the pizza, threw his body under the bakery rug and dove into the cheesy Italian delight.   
  
It was cold that night. Knowing that the zombies came out mostly at night, you would have thought that they would have scheduled the meeting for the day. I guess everyone was used to blowing away the occasional zombie. The first person to go up to the podium was Monotoli, president of Eagleland. "As you know, we're still stuck here and have no solution to the zombie problem. But we need to do something soon. The administration feels that we don't have much time left. As most of you know or should know, the Halloweens in Threed are dark. Literally. There is no dawn or sunset. It's all dark. So we should do something even if a few of you have to get eaten. What these zombies are doing is simply uncalled for and quite messy." A zombie hiding in the compartment in the bottom of the podium grabbed Monotoli by the legs and ate him.   
  
The zombie finished his meal and approached the podium. "Uhhh…Brains…Brains…" He moaned and groaned until he took some Pepcid AC out of his pocket and swallowed it. "Man, that stuff's fast. There must have been something weird going on with the brains. I usually don't get indigestion like that. Anyways, I'm here to defend the zombies even if some of what he said was true. Still, there was quite a bit of exaggeration."   
  
Frank stood up and presented his case. "Yo, how can I trust you? Onea yous ate my wife."   
  
"No, that was me." Frank responded with a bullet to the zombie's head. Another zombie broke in from the side of the tent and ate Frank's brain. The quick eat, nothing elaborate. "I really hate rudeness. Now, as I was getting at, if you are open minded enough, we're not that different from you. We just eat more brains, have rotted a bit and are lacking a soul and life."   
  
One of the drug store clerks got up. "That's really touching, but I'm just not convinced."   
  
"Well, I don't have too much more time to convince you. Sunrise is only a few hours away."   
  
"Ok, then let me explain my - Hey, what's that behind you?" The clerk pointed at the wall behind the zombie.   
  
The zombie looked into the clerk's soul and used his undead powers to pull the clerk towards him. "I'm not falling for that again. How do you think I got turned into a zombie in the first place?" The zombie punched the clerk in the forehead, causing the chunks of man to rain on the crowd, and ate yet another brain. The crowd filed out in disgust of all the brain eating. Some chose to shoot some zombies and run, but there weren't any more brain feasts that night. I just went back to the bakery and went to sleep. Getting bashed in the head then thrown into some weird zombie-infested place can take a bit out of you. 


	2. II

The following morning, after a long and satisfying sleep in the bakery, I decided that I had to do something about the whole zombie situation. It would have been boring sitting around in some weird place watching some guy remind me constantly that it was time to bake the donuts. So I decided to go on a bunch of trips during the day and investigate a bit. Only with a bit less head bashing and shooting. I didn't want those zombies to get our brains that easily. I got my uniform on, including the gun, badge and hat. Those who respected authority before will still respect it during the most bizarre and dangerous of situations. The investigation didn't start off as I had planned. I decided to go geographically, from east to west. The first house in the city was a small house, but the guy inside refused to come out. He had some weird accent, so I didn't understand all of what I said. He told me to get someone else, so I took my cellular phone out and decided to call up the police station. I'm not sure why I didn't do it before. It didn't make any difference since I was getting no reception.   
  
Second house was just as bad. It was some old woman. She was just as bad as the first guy, but she had no accent. I'm sure if she had tried talking in a manner that would have allowed me to understand what she was saying, something would have exploded. Third house was empty. I was about to bust in, but had better things to do with my time. House-wise, I was off to a great pace. Information wise, my pace was as slow as Orlando Pace. As these thoughts circulated my mind, a speeding cab was going through the corners of Threed in a way only a Ford could. Luckily, I jumped out of the way once I heard the tires scraping against the pavement in a desperate, but successful attempt to turn me into another zombie. The guy apologized profusely and asked me immediately if there was anything he could do to repay my near-death. One series of thoughts popped up instantly. First, the guy had a cab. Transportation. It's a small town, but I'm no 20 year old Rocky Balboa. Secondly, he's a cabbie. Cabbies know everything. Who doesn't talk to their cabby? I'm sure there were a few Russian cab drivers during the Cold War who were told directly that they were just bluffing. So I took advantage of my lack of transportation and knowledge and told him to give me some time in his cab. Sure, there's no price on death due to all that 'life is precious' crap. But apparently, the price on near-death is $25, including tip.   
  
I got in and the guy got his mouth running the instant my body collided with that cab heating. The guy probably wanted to get rid of some of the tension. His first question was the typical cabby request. "So, where are you going?"   
  
"No place in particular. You think you can just drive around a few times?"   
  
"No problem, chief."   
  
"So, what are you doing driving a cab in a place like this?"   
  
"There ain't no way I know of to leave this place," he answered like a chauffer. He looked completely concentrated on his driving, but conversed like he was in the back seat with me. "But there are still plenty of people who don't want to use those legs of theirs."   
  
"Any idea what's going on?"   
  
"I probably know less than you do. I heard things. I heard things, but I heard so many things, I ain't sure which of them is right. One guy, he comes in and tells me 'everything'. He says to me that those zombies are all just using us to drive them around. We're good drivers, their hands will fall off if they try to make some of these left turns. Still doesn't explain the brain eating, though. So then he says that eventually, all of us will be brought out by them just to drive. Who started all this? The guy blames Aquaman. He musta figured that since some of these zombies had a bit of a fishy color and was pretty brainless, there has to be some kind of driving force. Who better than Aquaman? Well, I don't believe a word of that guy. I don't think many other people were either since he got eaten a minute after I dropped him off. He left a good tip. Nice guy. A bit on the insane and paranoid side, but nice."   
  
"I'm not buying it either, but that guy got further than I did even if he was probably completely wrong," The cabby got a laugh out of that. It's nice to see people still had a sense of humor. It's like one of those Robin Williams 'humor is the solution to genocide, legal disputes or personal problems' movies. "You never can be safe. I haven't seen Aquaman in a few years."   
  
"Hey, you ain't goin nowhere, right?"   
  
"Not yet."   
  
"Well, I'm gonna pick up this guy if it's ok to you."   
  
I had enough trust in the common man, but glanced out the window simply out of curiosity. The guy looked familiar. He had hair slicked back in a cool big-city fashion and an eye-patch that really didn't add much. He was dressed quite well and was one of those guys that had the huge nose and would have looked much worse without it. "Of course. I'll just pay his thing. Money never has been a big concern for me."   
  
The guy got in; the cabby looked him in the eyes through the rear-view mirror and asked him the top cabby question. "Where you headed?"   
  
"Take me to the bakery. No need to wait for me once we get there. I'm right across the street." The cabby nodded his head in acknowledgement. "So, who's this guy?"   
  
"Captain Strong, police chief of Onett. Have I met you before? You look familiar." Slight pause. My verbal slips always occur in the worst possible ways. "Not that you're a criminal or anything. Maybe I met you at one of our cop picnics? You spend lots of time walking around Onett?"   
  
"Not really. I spend most of my time in Fourside. I own a café. Named after me, Jackie." He reached out, I shook. "I remember you. You spent a few days in our city during the whole Everdred investigation."   
  
"Oh, that's right. That was a real nice bar you had."   
  
"Yeah, and it got even better after that investigation. You should have seen it. It was the last thing I saw before I got here."   
  
"I can't remember the last thing I saw. I had a more conventional trip. Get knocked out cold, get drug to a weird town, try to figure out what happened. Same old stuff."   
  
"Luckily, I've never had to go through something like that," he said as he adjusted his eye-patch. It was the first time I really noticed it while he was in the cab. "I was closing the café up. Cleaning the place up. Pretty bad fight that day. You would have thought it would take more than mere caffeine, but for some people, all it takes is that one cup of espresso. So the two guys bloodied up the place up pretty badly. I walked over to the walls, began washing and got this weird feeling of déjà vu. The wall looked a bit different, so I put my ear against it and did my triple knock. Next thing I see is a bright flash of light. Then come a weird series of images then I begin falling. It feels slow and so does the impact. Not like the 10 second 'fall' I felt. It felt more like I had fallen off the sofa or a bed. Not much else to say about the situation. I'm one of the newer guys here." He glanced out the window. "Well, we're just about there. Nice talking to you again, Strong."   
  
"Same here. And don't worry about the fare. I got it covered."   
  
"Thanks, Strong. Thanks for the ride, bud." He got out then held on to the cab window as he was going through something in his mind. "Oh, and I saw this guy on the street a day or two ago who knew his stuff. Dr. Andonuts - weird guy. Still, you might want to go to him if you want more. I didn't hear much except where he lived. He said it was the only green house in the western section of the town."   
  
I gave Jackie the thumbs-up and checked my watch. There was enough time left. "Ok, that's where we're going. You know where this house is?"   
  
"Yeah, I know where it is. I drove the guy home last night. Well, yesterday afternoon. I don't do night jobs."   
  
The rest of the ride was pretty quiet. The cabby must have either said all he had to say or was mentally preparing Jackie's bit for his next guy. "Thanks for all your help. I'll probably end up coming to you again sometime tomorrow. How much do I owe you?"   
  
"Only about $50. Pretty good deal for such a long ride."   
  
I gave him the $50 and tipped him with a big wad of small bills I had in my pocket. The driver was pretty thankful and left me at the green house. He sped away, but it was only 4 PM. 4 PM? Dang, I must have still been in the Summer state of mind. Still, I was here and wasn't going to waste it. I rung the doorbell and knew someone was in. The guy told me to hold on. He laughed then got up. Must have been watching some cartoons. Geniuses always have had a thing for animation. "Hi, what can I do for you?" He looked quite different than I had originally pictured. I pictured some bald old guy in a wheelchair, not a young looking, young sounding guy with tang-orange hair. He was dressed pretty nicely, but not really professionally.   
  
"Hi, Dr. Andonuts? I came after hearing about your explanation of what's going on around here."   
  
"I'm not Andonuts. I'm quite surprised you don't recognize me, the legendary Orange Kid."   
  
"What? But Andonuts told me he was in the only green house on the western side of the town."   
  
"He is. This is the east. Well, come in. I could out-do that guy any day."   
  
I obeyed his request. It was a pretty small house. "So, what are your thoughts on the whole zombie thing?"   
  
He was busy getting some gadgets out of his closet. "Well," he seemed to be struggling for words as he was busy fishing something out. "What do you mean?"   
  
"Why are they here? What do they want?"   
  
"Well, not my new egg machine," he said in a manner completely identical to an infomercial salesman. "Those guys got poor taste. Instead of my superb eggs, they decide to take brains. I bet the juicy mofo in my head's next." I tried getting back on track, but he was too eager to show off his device. "You can use fresh eggs, scrambled eggs, eggs benedict, ostrich eggs, any thing and it'll give you what you really want. Boiled eggs. Come on give me any form of egg to use."   
  
"Scrambled." Just like your manners, I thought to myself. He placed a pre-scrambled egg in the machine and after two dull minutes, I had a boiled egg. Only with one major error. "Hey, your machine is smoking and there's a big wire thing in my egg."   
  
"Oh, that's normal," he said calmly as he got the fire extinguisher out. "For now, it is. I'm still working on it."   
  
"Why don't you work on something else for now?"   
  
"Like what?"   
  
"Like telling me what you know on the zombie situation."   
  
"Well, I don't know much. But I am planning on doing something."   
  
"What could you be planning with no information?"   
  
"The typical bust in and shoot them up."   
  
"Care to share any of your incredible weaponry?"   
  
"Not yet. That's confidential. But my finest creation isn't. It's my great pleasure to show you the Suporma."   
  
It looked clunky and weird. He pressed a button on the machine and it began playing a song. Some weird ode to him. I was getting bored after the first 10 minutes and felt a draft. I looked to my side. The door was open. Before I was able to do anything about it, a group of zombies rushed in and ate him instantly. I doubt he even saw it coming or felt much. Thankfully, they took out that incredibly tacky machine with him.   
  
I was a bit quicker. I grabbed a flashlight on his coffee table and jumped through the window. Sounds illogical, but at the time, it seemed much more logical than trying to run through a mob of zombies. Those things are made pretty solidly now. I didn't get cut up badly, but was on my back long enough to get eaten if any of those undead were nearby. I was able to get up fairly quickly due to the threat and just froze and looked around for a few seconds. Nothing around, but it was the mere threat of that in the dark that did the trick. I had the flashlight on in my left hand and the typical cop gun in the right.   
  
I saw that there was nothing close. Or at least not on this side of the house. I walked around the house and looked to my right. One was down the street, but I was to its back. I unintentionally ended up re-enacting the classic cartoon joke. I began making my run, he began making his turn towards me. I stuck my foot out, he stuck his foot behind out of anticipation. Then I saw we were reaching the high-point of their night, food wise, so I shot the zombie in the head three times and made my run.   
  
I was going good until I saw that a group of them was busy hunting down a guy on a bike. I tried to catch up, but by the time I got up to the flesh-eating quartet, each was munching on some limb. The head was completely clean. The only thing that came to mind was "hey, they must be saving the best for last." They saw me looking at them, probably in shock, so it was too late to make an effective run back. I gave each a pop in the head and ran off with the bike. The zombies went down like the rest, but they never stay down long. Still, I got a decent head start, but had no idea where I was going. I should have paid more attention in the cab, but it probably wouldn't have made a difference. I was in one of those parts of the town where every building was a white, two-story house. The cookie cutter section.   
  
I did some swerving to avoid the occasional limb. I didn't approach any zombies until I actually knew where I was. I recognized the hotel from our tent trip, but never went in. The door was open, so I just put two and two together. I sped by the hotel and two zombies began a foot pursuit. I slowed down a bit to get things a bit steadier then pulled the trigger a few times. It's hard shooting while on a bike, but I think I had a winning percentage there. I picked off a zombie approaching in the distance then sped off. This place of town was more comforting, but the turns are much sharper. If I hadn't borrowed such a nice bike, I probably would have fallen off at that left turn after the hotel.   
  
Down the next street, I shot off another zombie, this time while going full-speed. Dang, shooting while speeding is an easy gift to get the hang of. But luck is something you can't develop. If I'm wrong, let me know because I'm really lacking there. I was almost home, or at least to my new temporary bread-baking home. I going down the street and those two zombies, or two other zombies that had sustained massive gunshot wounds to the head that night, were waiting a couple dozen yards in front of me. I shot one, but didn't have enough left in the gun for the second. I took a sharp turn and was hoping to take out the zombie's lower legs with the bike. I blindly jumped and ended up going through a window, harder than the last. I looked up, said "Sorry. I'll clean this up later," to whoever was in there and passed out. 


	3. III

I woke up in a manner that was becoming much too common and probably wasn't very good for my health. I was on the cold, hard ground with a bad headache, dinged up more than the ordinary cop and no idea how I got here. Well, no poking this time. Instead, I was greeted by an evil voice ready to explain it all. "Welcome, Captain Strong. You may be wondering where you are. You're in our dining room. We prefer our meals live and active. Well, this is active enough. Dig in, boys."   
  
This wasn't sounding good. It probably began to drop around that dining room part. I felt around for my handgun and it was foolishly left in my holster. I whipped it out, jumped up and put it up to the zombie's head. "Any of you come closer and your precious leader gets it right in the head," I yelled in the most intimidating way I could while still half-conscious. Man, I can get pretty irrational during those initial post-unconsciousness moments. I had no idea what this zombie meant to them, if he meant anything at all, and forgot about the whole zombies can take gunshots in like sponges thing.   
  
"Hey, put the gun down, man. It's just me," the guy with the gun to his head said quite coolly.   
  
I looked in front of me then around. It was just the baker and no one was around me except the familiar baked goods and someone looking at the cakes. "Oh, sorry about that. Would you mind filling me in on everything again?"   
  
"Not this time, but I'm sure she could help," he said, pointing to the cake woman.   
  
"Hi, how are you now?" The voice was familiar, but not as familiar as the mile-wide, mile-high, mile-deep in terms of personality smile.   
  
"Well, I'm alive. That's good enough for me."   
  
"That's great!" She giggled then I actually began getting some information out of her. "Well, you jumped through the mach pizza window last night. You might have remembered that, but you were down for a while after that. I didn't know what happened or what to do at first, but I knew I had to get you out. But a zombie must have come back for you. I threw a hot pizza in its face and broke a broom over his head. While he was trying to get back up, I drug you here. I think the Mach Pizza will be down for a while. We're missing a window and I heard our pizza maker and boss screaming and begging for mercy." She seemed more disappointment about being forced to leave Mach Pizza for a while.   
  
"Thanks for all your help."   
  
"No problem! Is there anything I can do for you? Bread? Water? Danish?"   
  
"Not right now. You missed a spot, so maybe a band-aid?" I picked a bit of glass out of my shin. Not as bad as I thought. "Forget the band-aid. What about the time?"   
  
"It's five o'clock. Wow, you've been asleep for a while! I'll have a simple dinner ready soon. You have to be hungry!"   
  
I was, but was too busy mapping tomorrow out in my mind. I had already wasted a day. I needed to use the next wisely. She had a loaf of bread and was going through the refrigerator. "So, what are you making tonight? I doubt it'll be pizza."   
  
"Maybe in a few days. Tonight, I'm just doing a sandwich. Turkey if that's fine with you."   
  
"Of course. I haven't had any of that in a while." She had nicer hands than I had noticed before. Nice feet too. I don't have x-ray vision, but I'm sure those feet would have been the first thing I noticed if I had it. And if she wasn't required to wear shoes while working too. "So, what's your name? I never bothered to get it."   
  
"Sharon. I always thought it was a nice name. I saw your tag and badge, Chief Strong, but didn't want to go through your wallet just to get your first."   
  
"Just call me Strong. I'm too used to it now. It's the only name I hear at work, at home and even my mom has begun calling me by that."   
  
"Ok, sure. Whatever goes for you. Eat up, Strong." She looked over to the baker, who was working on some pastry. I always looked at them as procrastinators. "So, y'all gonna eat or are you too busy now?"   
  
"I'll eat later."   
  
"Wow, this is great," I said honestly. "Thanks for the sandwich. I haven't eaten anything worth noting in a while. I wasn't even able to get much out of that last pizza I got."   
  
"Thanks a lot," she said, a bit flattered. She looked down at her sandwich, blushing. It was the first time I saw her without that huge smile on her face, but it returned quickly. "I didn't think it would be anything special. Just a typical turkey sandwich, but maybe I should make these more often."   
  
"You really should. If I were able to make these, it would be something I'd do at least weekly. Honestly, I wouldn't be able to go with pizza for an entire week. I probably wouldn't even be able to do it twice in a row."   
  
"You know what?" She did rhetorical questions better than anyone back at the station. They're just too straightforward. "There was this guy at the drug store a few days ago that said almost the same exact thing. He had a mushroom pizza with extra cheese that day so I recognized the voice. He was with this other guy. The other guy didn't say much, though. He didn't even say what he wanted. I don't know if the other guy said anything at all. Well, the mushroom guy said that he didn't know much about this whole zombie thing. He said something like 'all I know is that these zombies see each other as equals. There is no leader. There are some that take action more, but the slackers when it comes to brain eating seem to be treated equally.' He had an interesting idea, but I'm not so sure anymore. I was working overtime, but I heard about the tent thing." She took a sip of her drink, then looked right at me with those beautiful brown eyes of hers. It's weird. I always looked at brown eyes as boring and plain, but there was something different here. "So, what do you think about all of this?"   
  
"I don't know. I've heard so much I don't know what to believe at this point. But I guess that could be the case. I've heard nothing that goes against it." I took a quick look outside. It was dark, but not pitch black. Probably two thirds through the transition to dark. "Wow, it's pretty early for sunset. Any idea what day it is?"   
  
"Of course. It's the twentieth. Time goes by quickly, doesn't it?"   
  
"Too quickly. I could have sworn the last day I saw before I got here was the tenth. How many concussions have you ever had, Sharon?"   
  
"None, of course! Working in a pizza place isn't very dangerous unless you're sticking your hand in the oven out of boredom."   
  
"That's two less than I've had this past month, so your memory is probably a bit sharper than mine. That and you've got youth on your side."   
  
"I'm sure you're not that much older than I am."   
  
"Sure you are. I'd estimate you at 24."   
  
"Wow, you're good. Exactly 24. Now, let me guess your age." She got up close and took a good look at my moustache. "My aunt has this trick where she can guess anyone's age - man or woman - just by looking at their facial hair." She let out some weird noise of frustration and sat back down. "Yours is just too perfect. I've never really studied facial hair and you don't have any of those things I remember that my aunt went by. What about your tie?" I looked down at it, surprised it was still in decent condition. "Undo your tie then re-do it. I've worked with all kinds of people. Maybe their tying has something to do with the age." I slowly undid my tie due to the firmness and tried to tie it as closely as I normally do. "Ok, that's great. I'm not too sure about this one, but 38?"   
  
"33. Maybe I made myself sound a bit older than I really am, but that police work can make you feel like a geezer after having it piled on most of your life."   
  
"Well, I'm sure police work isn't all that bad. You get to help people and you make a difference. And you get free sandwiches too!" She giggled, took our empty plates and put them in the kitchen sink.   
  
"Yeah, I guess it's not all that bad. But there are times like this where you really get a lot taken out of you."   
  
"Well, I'm sure all your work won't be wasted. Well, I have to prove that this space I'm taking up won't be wasted," she said in reference to her dish-washing duties. "You should get some sleep." I followed her suggestion and fell asleep as easily as a pro wrestler with 7 midgets hanging off his neck. 


	4. IV

I wasn't about to let my perilous trip to the Orange Kid's house go wasted. I was told to go to Dr. Andonuts by one person I trusted. Possibly another one I never even saw, but I'm not sure if I was told to go to Dr. Andonuts. After I heard about him, that was my gut instinct. I borrowed a chair from the bakery, made a trip to the drug store for some reading material, poster board and a sharpie. I made a noticeable sign that said "WAITING FOR CAB" then waited outside the bakery. I got through my entire magazine, but there was no cab. I looked around and saw the same bike I got back in. I was hesitant to go back on, but looked at the bike and decided that if I was able to out-run that many zombies on a bike, I was good enough to get around in broad daylight on one.   
  
I got on and sped westward. I went right by the fabled green house, but noticed it. I stopped, knocked and was brought in quickly. "Hi, I'm Andonuts. What brings you here?" He talked quickly as he rushed around to clean the place up.   
  
"Oh, don't worry about that. I was with the Onett police force. I've seen much worse."   
  
"Thanks. It may not look like it, but I have an organizing system here that works pretty well if you know what it is. Unfortunately, the only people who know about it are me and the Apple Kid over there." He pointed to a chubby red-haired kid dressed almost completely in red.   
  
"Apple Kid? Any relation to the Orange Kid?"   
  
"He wishes there were some relation. He's a womanizer and a self-absorbed idea man. I'm a genuine inventor." He scratched his worked-up butt and went back to what he was working on.   
  
"Sorry about that. So, care to explain some of your inventions, Dr. Andonuts?"   
  
"Well, all I have here are the beginnings of new projects. All my stuff was left at home, so we've been a bit slow getting things going."   
  
"How did you get here? I'd understand if you wouldn't know. I'm having some problems remembering that myself."   
  
"I was in my sky runner. You may have heard about that. It's my famed flying device, not in commercial development yet. I was on a trip to see my son, Jeff in Saturn Valley, but somehow, I lost control of my machine and was forced to utilize the untested ejector seat. Luckily, it worked fine, but the sky runner ended up going through the cemetery. I haven't been back to check on it yet. That place is always guarded." He looked at the Apple Kid and saw he was too busy to explain his situation. "Apple Kid over there has a more typical story. He was kidnapped, blindfolded and hogtied. We assume the last was merely for entertainment. Once he was let go, he was in the middle of Threed."   
  
"Dang. Was I the only one to get knocked out?"   
  
"Perhaps it was someone other than the zombies who got to you."   
  
"Nope," I didn't remember it all, but I remembered that what Dr. Andonuts suggested was not a possibility. "I'm pretty sure it was. I saw them."   
  
"Well, you can't doubt the human vision."   
  
"Dr. Andonuts, I was told you had some pretty good ideas about zombies. Care to share them?"   
  
"Of course. What's the point in having knowledge if you can't share it?" He got up and flipped the blackboard around. He did plenty of unnecessary pointing during his explanation. "My theory is a simple one that goes back but has never been proven. I have evidence that these aren't actually zombies. These are aliens." Before I got a chance to make a rhetorical question, he went on with his explanation. "For one, the complexion of the zombies isn't completely humanlike. Yes, I will not deny that there are obvious similarities, but are there not similarities between man and ape? This could help fuel the theory that aliens were here before man. That man is part of that alien species. Secondly, the coloration is nothing like what zombie experts predicted zombies would look like. It is more similar to the probable complexion of an alien from one of the outer planets. One of the gaseous planets, smaller, colder planets or something out of our solar system. The chemical makeup in those planets does not allow for the type of diet that would lead to our coloration. Instead, it would lead to a greenish coloration observed by the naked eye. However, if these were aliens from the inner planets, there would be a drastic change in coloration. Mars aliens would be more of a grayish color. The planets between the earth and the sun would provide us with beings of a brownish tint. If everything adds up, the aliens began in one of the outer planets. They overpopulated their planets and began colonizing the other planets, with the proper equipment to survive on those planets. Obviously, they wouldn't sent their most contributing members of society, which explains why we are so behind. Now, my third, but not as important or researched point…"   
  
I was about to fall asleep and stopped him there. "Ok, I get the point. No need to go further. Do you have any physical evidence you've found here?"   
  
"Of course. Let's go out back."   
  
"Wait a minute, I have a question."   
  
"What's your question?"   
  
"You seem to know quite a bit about these aliens, so why would they be so hostile?"   
  
"Who cares? They're eating our brains."   
  
"Now, do you think they're too strong for us?"   
  
"I'm not too sure. I haven't seen them do anything noteworthy yet."   
  
"Well, do you think Ghandi could beat up Peter the Great?" I was hoping he would let me stay on track with this.   
  
"Sure. I have no doubts that Ghandi could do it."   
  
"Yeah, he'd probably whip off his diaper and choke Peter the Great to death with it. You think he ever had problems with a gap in that thing?" Dr. Andonuts probably wasn't familiar with the gap. I guess that's what happens when you're completely isolated from any neighbors knocking on your door at midnight in their boxers. "Well, my point is that there's probably some kind of weakness there. You got a good brain there, Andonuts. You should try to use it a bit more quickly. We don't have much time left."   
  
Andonuts just led the way to the back yard. It didn't look like it had been mowed in a while until we got on the roof for a better look. "See anything familiar, Captain Strong?"   
  
"Yeah, these look like those crop circle things."   
  
"Exactly, although I'm not sure what it means. It's probably just a simplified version of the Stonehenge thing. Have you ever been there?"   
  
"Nope. I wasn't even sure it was real. I heard rumors, but just rumors."   
  
"I have two working theories on that now." Oh, great. The theories. I had to get down and get a closer look while he spent another half hour making himself feel like more of a genius. "Hey, stop! You really need to hear my first theory before you go closer!"   
  
"I'm waiting."   
  
"The Stonehenge led to an underground headquarters. Some kind of lab thing. It got blown up, so I wasn't able to do much with that. Second theory is just that they're some weird means of communication."   
  
I was sure that nothing would happen to me if I stepped in one of the circles. But I decided to do something just to please the old brainiac. I shot down a decent-sized branch and brought it with me on the roof. I took a few seconds to get ready then threw it like a lance. It landed right in the middle of one of the circles and stuck. Nothing happened, so I was given the green light by Andonuts. I went back down and slowly went through the tall, waist-high grass. I saw something on the ground, but it turned out to be something pretty expected-a rake. I went further into the circle, which turned out to be a bit sloppier than the alien documentaries built them up to be. Then I finally saw something to prove the doctor wrong. A half circle, with a knocked down lawnmower and some rotted limb. I crouched down to get a closer look at the bottom of the half-circle. I saw nothing on the flat portion of the circle, then I let my eyes stray as I thought about what could have happened and spotted something in the tall grass. I saw a beige piece of cloth protruding out, pulled on it and found myself with a nice and unusually clean and wearable pair of pants. Luckily, I also had a new wallet in my hands.   
  
"I think I know what's with the circles."   
  
"What? The current theories baffle me since there has been so much going both against and for the crop circles."   
  
I threw the limb at him and showed him the wallet. He threw the limb off the roof before I got a chance to speak and looked a bit sick. "The guy was an alien freak. Look at the wallet. Big contributor to S.E.T.I., member of one national and two local alien clubs and for some reason, he had a picture of David Duchovony in the picture slips. Not sure if this is Duchovony's kid or if he felt Duchovony was a more influential part of his life than his father or any other non-mom relatives. Unless that's Fox Mulder's wife, mom, long-lost-alien-hunting-cousin, whatever. I never watched the show on a weekly basis."   
  
"What does that have to do with circles?"   
  
"The kid was fascinated with aliens. He must have made these himself. I've heard about cases like these. Not too often if you have the right people screwing with the kids' minds."   
  
Before I was able to try to make stronger attempts to wipe all this alien junk out of Andonuts's head, I heard a weird scream. I wasn't able to tell if it was from a woman or a man at first, but then I remembered the Apple Kid. I looked down and only saw a big bloody pile of something. It was too late and before I was able to insure that I wasn't going to suffer from the same fate, I felt two cold hands grabbing my skull. I instinctively gave the zombie a swift and effective head butt. The zombie obviously went to his instincts too since I felt a slight tug on my hair during the fast-paced escape. My hair had been wettened minorly and I told Andonuts not to panic.   
  
I looked around then remembered the one thing I forgot. The ladder. Luckily, it wasn't too late to do anything about it now. I saw the head popping up and ran at it. I had never done it on a roof before, but I performed an ideal baseball slide and broke a few shingles during the stop. I probably busted up the zombie's skull or what was left of it. It was flat on its bloodied back and I began pulling the ladder up. It was heavy enough and I had to drop it once I felt some more pressure on it. I threw it away from the roof and flattened another zombie in the process.   
  
I got back to a safer point of the roof where the doctor had taken refuge. "Fascinating, ain't it?" He didn't respond. He was too busy observing a pack of zombies hunting down a defenseless old man and disemboweling him. I'm not sure if it was the violence that he was so shocked by or the fact that he wasn't able to do anything reasonable. During the eating of the disemboweled old man, I heard some scraping on the house. I felt pretty safe at this higher altitude and was ready to camp out all night. Safe enough to check on the zombies determined to eat us even if it made them even deader. The zombies were slowly climbing the sides of the house. Some fell off, but others had longer nails, probably just for this. I shot all the house-scaling zombies and rushed back to the center of the house. "They're climbing up to the roof. We have to get out," I explained.   
  
"How? I don't think my body could handle a leap to the ground now."   
  
"Your fragile butt can't afford to get eaten either." I began looking for anything to climb down from. I saw nothing. The closest tree was too far away and the base of the tree was surrounded by zombies anyways. I turned around as I heard a loud crashing. A zombie arm had just forced itself through the roof. Andonuts wasn't the quickest on the reflexes and was slowly drug down to the house, taking a bit of the roof with him. I didn't bother checking on him, especially after I heard his chilling screams.   
  
I heard something coming from my right. I looked and wasn't able to make it out at first. As it got closer, I was able to see what it was. A bus. Convenient. It turned out to be too convenient. I jumped on the roof since anything seemed to be better than the green house, which was going to fall apart faster than the Titanic. That hard, cold metal smacking your torso isn't the most ideal feeling to have. It always looks easier when done by a professional, but I landed on something and already felt a good bruise right below my ribcage. I rolled over and grabbed it then felt a bump right on the back of my spine. The zombies were back at their roof destruction antics. Luckily, buses have a tendency to be made out of hard-to-pierce metal and all that touched me then was a slight protrusion of the metal. I sat up, facing the front of the bus just to avoid any hilarious "sweet, I survived" decapitations. I heard something bumping the front of the bus and kept my distance due to my desire not to get split in half and because I was still a bit sore after the landing. The bumping didn't last very long. I heard some glass shattering; bumping then saw what looked like the decapitated body of a bus driver rolling behind the bus. That's never a good sign.   
  
I instantly felt some good swerving. I've never felt swerving this extreme, even during that time I let my 6-year old take over the driver's seat of Onett's top police cruiser. Luckily, the swerving evened out even if the rest of the ride wasn't the most ideal. Unfortunately, every good thing that happened to me that night seemed to have some kind of drawback. I saw the hatch being opened in the back and looked for some way out. One zombie climbed out, only to receive a quick bullet to the head from my trigger-happy hands. He rolled off and if Dr. Andonuts had a theory that zombies roll off busses better then men, this would have proven it. Another zombie climbed up, but was a bit luckier. I had run out of bullets and looked for some route of escape. He was going to get to me eventually, so I ran at him and dove at him headfirst. I smacked him in the face with my emptied out gun and he slid off the roof with ease. I almost did the same, but I have reflexes. I grabbed onto something on the edge of the bus and was able to quickly pull myself back up.   
  
I looked around to see where I was. I saw that we were on my new street, but another zombie had climbed onto the roof and we were still going too quickly to just jump off. I remember a decent-sized tree near the bakery and kept an eye out for it. I jumped as we got close and was able to grab onto a branch. Unfortunately, I wasn't able to get a good grip and fell right off. Oh well, it's better than rolling or just plain succumbing to my death. Finally, I caught a break. There were no zombies around and I was able to slowly drag by bruised and battered body to the bakery. I was expected and was brought in more quickly than a NASCAR pit crew by Sharon and the baker. "Hey, at least I didn't bust up the windows this time," I said as I went out once again. 


	5. V

I woke up and was barely able to move. At least I was able to remember how I got in the bakery this time. It was a combination of my stiffness and the fact that I was practically stuck in a body cast due to my excessive bandaging and ice packs. "Drink up," Sharon said beyond my laying-on-my-back range of vision. I forced my stiff body up and saw a big bowl of chicken noodle soup on the table, still steaming. "So, was it worth it?"   
  
I wasn't sure if she was actually curious about what had happened or if she was playing the part of the ticked off and concerned mother. "Not as much as I had hoped. The guy I spent most of the day talking to turned out to be a bit of a nut job. He got eaten, I almost got eaten, ended up with a few bruises." I sat up and pushed my foot gently into the wooden edge of the bed in the process. "May have broken something too," I said after I heard a distinct crack.   
  
"The hospital's probably open now. I'm not sure how many people would still be working there, but it's worth a shot."   
  
"No need to concern yourself with that," I said, observing the tight bandaging of my left hand and mentally observing the bandaging of my torso in awe. She had to have had some history in nursing or something higher.   
  
"You really should get it looked at. You never know what could happen. You might have broken something. Or I might have. You were pretty beat up when you got here. These zombies could have the plague or something."   
  
"Fine. It's not that far anyways." We slowly made our way to the hospital. I had a slight wait, but nothing major. Not because of big lines. The wait was caused by some understaffing. During the wait, I remembered what day it was - the twenty second - and knew I couldn't go through the day with nothing. "Hey, there's no need for you to waste your day too."   
  
"Well, I don't have much else to do. I never get any work at the bakery until the night."   
  
"I got something for you to do. Simple, shouldn't be a problem for something like you."   
  
"What on Earth could you want me to do?"   
  
"Go to the place where I went last night and bring back as many of the Dr. Andonuts's things you can."   
  
"Sure, I'll do what I can do."   
  
"Great. It's the only green house on the western side of the town. It'll be better for you to walk there. Those cabbies never would have lasted in Columbus or De Soto's shoes."   
  
"Ok, great. I'll try to be back soon."   
  
"You should. Don't do the same thing I did. I'm not sure when sunset is in this screwy place," I said to her, although the words were being directed to open air. I was busy looking for a clock. It was already 12:00. "I'd suggest 3:00." She nodded in agreement and left. The wait was painful. I heard that there was only one doctor in from the other three people who were waiting before I got there. I slowly made my way to the drug store next door to get something to eat. I doubt the waiting room missed me. The door and big window were broken down, so I naturally went in anyways out of curiosity. Fortunately, they had done something about the apparent staff eating problem. There was a big basket in the middle of the store with a big ballot-style box and a price list. The basket must have been for style or out of tradition. I got something light and a refreshing coke and put the cash in the box. I picked up the box to give the system a test. It felt light. I hadn't planned to steal the money, but I put the box down quickly just so nobody else would get that idea.   
  
When I got back in the hospital waiting room, I was sitting with the same three people. Fortunately, someone left the doctor's office shortly after I got there, so I knew I wasn't waiting in there just to have my time wasted. I knew trying to strike up a conversation with these other folks was just a lost cause, so I just picked up a People Magazine and read it front to back. I must have read at least two People and three Parenting magazines fully until they called my name. Who knew there was so much to write about on something like Parenting? Same with all these pet magazines. You would have thought that eventually, the writers of Cat Fancy would have run out of material. Same with all those parenting magazines since I doubt owning domestic animals hasn't always been a common practice. Unless they've really been coloring our history or the Matrix was right, parenting was something people have had forever.   
  
I tried to stay quiet during the exam because of all the useless information I had just absorbed. I was afraid of spewing it out faster than an untrained doctor 48 hours after contracting Ebola Zaire. The exam went pretty well and I got what I was hoping for. I had nothing more than bruises. The foot was nothing and I was free to go. I waited in the waiting room a bit longer after the exam for Sharon. I got too bored to just take the stare-and-wait method and didn't have another magazine reading in me. I began leaving and was met in the hall by Sharon. "Did you get anything?"   
  
"Nothing. The house was empty. I guess your guys already left. Some other guy was in there now. He said he had been waiting for a while and knew Dr. Andonuts too. He may have had something, but wasn't able to give any of it away."   
  
"Wow, that's quick. Thanks anyways. I may have to make another trip there." We left and I let out a quick and quiet "dang" as I saw that it was dark already. I told Sharon to go quickly back to the bakery. I was going to go at my own pace. I took my gun out and limped back to the bakery, keeping my eye out for any of those undead brain eaters. Halfway there, I was forced to draw my gun. I pulled the trigger, but had forgotten I used it all up. I pistol-whipped the zombie in the face and threw him a foot or two, utilizing with the little martial arts I knew. Behind me, I heard some startling, but human voices.   
  
"Man, that was weak," the first one, a tall spiky haired Asian guy said. Must have been a high schooler.   
  
"Yeah. It's the most watered down thing I've seen since the white guy tried to kick some butt in Jackie Chan's 'Who Am I?'", the other, shorter, also spiky haired and Asian, said slyly.   
  
I couldn't believe my eyes. Karate nerds. I thought it was impossible, but they were performing their neediness right in front of me. I threw them both at the zombie and were taken care of easily. I didn't stop to observe the satisfying eating, but heard their unsatisfied screams of death. They probably complained about the lack of smoothness in the eating. 


	6. VI

I set my alarm to go off early. Not too early, but early enough to be ready to leave right when the sun was fully out. It was out by the time I was dressed and ready to go. I took a different route this time to get a few supplies. I went behind the drug store and looked at the dumpster behind it. It looked disgusting. It looked like an attempted fast-paced kung-fu cow milking through the nose by Jet Li had taken place right over that dumpster. I kicked the dumpster and luckily, I didn't need much more than that. A tall, bearded black man popped up, wearing fatigues and dark sunglasses. Maybe the delay was because he was putting on his shades. I was hoping that was the case, although I don't see why it would affect your vision in a dark dumpster. "Hey, what can I hook you up with?"   
  
"I need some more ammo. I gotta get my zombie shootings in."   
  
"Yeah, I got plenty." He was so reliable. Whatever you needed off the black market, the shady arms dealer had plenty of it. "So, how much?"   
  
"I don't know. Just get me whatever I can get with this." I handed him a few big bills picked randomly from my wallet, which was thinning, but still big enough to get by for a few months.   
  
"Dang, man. That's a bunch of shooting."   
  
"Sure is. Just give me three now and stuff the rest in a bag." I received the three cartridges requested and clipped them on. I threw the one that was in my gun out and shoved the third in there. I received the bag of bullets, which felt surprisingly clean for something that had to have spent some time in the dumpster.   
  
I just threw the bag into my closet and made my actual trip for the day. Once again, I made a trip to that familiar green house. The trip felt much shorter than the first, but I still felt I needed a more efficient form of transportation. I got to the house and knocked. The guy who opened the door looked familiar. It took me a few minutes to recognize who he was. "Hi, can I help you?"   
  
"Yeah. I'd like to know what happened to the guy who was here last night."   
  
"Beats me. He either got eaten or faked his death. I'm Ness. I'll be here for a while." How did I forget him? "You're Captain Strong, right?"   
  
"That's right. Could I come in?"   
  
"Of course. Anything for one of Onett's finest."   
  
I went in and sat on a comfortable sofa in the weirdly empty room. The Apple Kid's junk must have been covering up the sofa the first time I saw this place. "So, when did you get here?"   
  
"I actually got here on my own. I got here using my psychic powers, but something's keeping me from leaving. Every time I try to, I just end up in the same place I tried to leave from."   
  
"Why would anyone want to come here?"   
  
"My friend, Jeff - you know, the geek? - He told me he was coming here to see what happened to his dad. I didn't hear from him for a while, not even on his portable receiver phone. So I decided to try to check up on him."   
  
"Different. You've one through this kind of thing before. Any idea what's going on with the whole zombie situation here?"   
  
"Not really. This is my second day here, so I haven't been able to look around much."   
  
"Nothing at all? I mean, you should know something about these things."   
  
"Well, if you had read my book, you'd know what I think."   
  
"But nobody read your book. So don't be a stubborn jerk about this. What do you think?"   
  
There was a hard knock on the door. "Let me get this first." He walked up to the door and fearlessly opened it.   
  
"Yo foo, you ready to part with some flour?" The unstoppable Mr. T and the equally as unstoppable Ness. It sounded way too much like a sitcom.   
  
"Sure. What for, T?"   
  
"That's Mr. T to you, sucka," he stated, heavily emphasizing the Mr. "I'm making some high-quality baked goods over there. Hannibal, he said he might come over. Foo loves it when a plan comes together, with all evil thrown through walls by me, all I got time to love is when a quality cookie comes together. Real quality, you don't forget that."   
  
"I'm not sure where I have it, so why don't you talk to our friendly police chief over there. I'm sure that he has plenty of things to get out of you."   
  
"Quit this jibba jabba and get me my flour!" Ness obeyed the angry T-Commands. "So, what's up with you, Strong?" He obviously meant well, but if he were to read some fairy tale out loud to some preschoolers, he'd still sound like he was about to rip your spine out in the longest and most painful way possible.   
  
"Not much, Strong. I haven't seen you since we took on that international plot to run all American car companies out of business through distribution of gasoline-eating insects."   
  
"Yeah, that case was fun. Ain't no foo messin with Ford."   
  
Ness returned with the flour. "Here's the entire bag, Mr. T. I don't care when you bring it back. But I only have one request."   
  
"Nothing big. The T don't work for nothing, ron."   
  
"I'm going to prove my theory on the zombies tonight. I just want you and Strong here to watch from your indestructible van."   
  
"That's fine, now let me bake my cookies, foo." Mr. T grabbed the bag of flour and left.   
  
"Now, onto your big anti-zombie theory, Ness."   
  
"Sure, why not? Back when I was saving your ungrateful butt from world dominance, I had to come through this place during a more low-profile zombie invasion. Who knows? This might be just as low-profile. Anyways, I wasn't even able to get in until I got some help from the Runaway Five. We just got in our bus and ran through with some of their music blaring from the bus. Then the rest was just a matter of force." Simple and efficient. I was hoping Ness's fate would be completely different from Dr. Andonuts's just like his style of explanation was.   
  
"So are you going to sing to them or just kill them off? You could always do both, but if you do, I don't want to be there to see which comes first."   
  
"I'm going to try my loud music theory first, but I'm ready to kill if I have to."   
  
"So we got quite a bit of time to burn. You mind if I go help Mr. T over there with some of this?"   
  
"Be my guest." I left the cocky fool and jogged over to Mr. T's house next door. He had popped the cookies into the oven and I explained the situation over some European racing. By the time the race was over, Ness had come over for both the cookies, which had been taken out during one of the slow points of the race, and also to gather his two-man audience. We went into Mr. T's big, black 80's van. It was pretty roomy, although it felt a bit old.   
  
"Ok, we're going in the back yard," he informed me. "That Ness is a crazy foo and don't want no assistance. It'll be dark soon, so he should prove them crazy theories soon." We didn't need to wait long, but still got some small-talk going. "So, you into the NBA, Strong?"   
  
"Not really. The games just seem so watered down now."   
  
"For them Califoos, it must be a blast. But I got a method to stop Shaq's nonsense?"   
  
"Really? I always thought he was unstoppable. Unless he hurts his toe, of course. One of these days, he's just going to have it amputated and replaced with a five million dollar bionic toe."   
  
"That fake toe won't be on long if I get into managing."   
  
"Why's that? You'll throw him through the stadium and stuff him into this van?"   
  
"No, Hannibal helped me with this one. Foo's gonna get leprosy a few days before he plays me. He'll still play, but won't be worth a Vanilla Ice with those lack of legs."   
  
"What if his legs don't fall off? Then he'll just be more unstoppable than ever. I don't know about you, but my mom told me never to join the NBA if you were going to be stuck defending a 7 foot tall leper."   
  
"You got a point there. Maybe the foo does need to be thrown through a few roofs." I checked my watch. It was around 2:20 when Ness set up the table, which I wasn't expecting to hold up. He went back into the house and came out with a boom box, connected inside with a long extension cord. He was rifling through a CD case and looked a bit clueless. He came up to the van for some advice.   
  
"Hey, I got some CDs from one of those weird Tenda guys next door. So which would you prefer to hear? Best of the Village People? Celine Dion? Or should I just take a risk on this blank CD?"   
  
"Man, foo ain't got none of my guest-stars in there? No Bruce Willis? None of Don Johnson's stuff? Guy just ain't right."   
  
"Well, I guess there could be some of that on the blank disc," Ness muttered to himself as he walked back to the table. He sat on the table and went through the contents of the CD. He didn't seem very satisfied. While he was going through, Mr. T saw something in the distance and smacked the horn twice. Ness knew what this meant and jumped up onto the table and held the boom box over his head. He turned the music up as loud as it could go and waited for the zombies as he had some crappy 80's rock ballad going. He didn't look concerned at all as the first pack began approaching. They stopped after they got within a few yards of the point of the music's origin and looked like they were discussing something. Ness must not have seen this and gave us a big thumbs-up. When he put his focus back on the zombies, they were ready to much on some shin. He saw he made a mistake and broke the boom box over the closest one's head, hopped behind the table and threw that as well.   
  
The boom box and table weren't able to keep the zombies down for long. Ness stepped back, looked at the growing group of something and muttered something to himself. I wasn't able to see much of what followed. He must have used one of those weird psychic powers. He let out a big, bright thing of energy and light. The zombies tried to get closer, but weren't even able to handle Ness's attack. Many of them started falling apart, starting with the melting of their zombie skin. I was surprised to see there wasn't much behind that. I guess the nut complaining about evil skeletons wasn't that crazy.   
  
However, Ness's psychic blast was interrupted as some projectile was lodged into Ness's head. Only half the disc was showing, but I could tell from the lettering and distinctive colors that it was the Village People Greatest Hits CD. There are so many different ways to kill with disco. It's too bad none of us saw that method coming. They closed in on the motionless body of Ness and finished the job. Mr. T decided it was time to give up his lack of attention, test the strength of those 80's fenders and got the van going. He plowed over a few zombies waiting for a piece of the Brain and skillfully drove around the house and back into the street. The van reached speeds I never would have expected as I gave him directions back to the bakery. There weren't many other zombies to split in half on the way back, but I was brought home in one piece. 


	7. VII

I was woken up by a fairly loud explosion. If the zombies weren't out to eat me, I know they were out to create an environment that was impossible to get a normal sleep in. I walked downstairs and looked to see what had happened. Sharon and the baker were down there too. Apparently, the explosion had come from some weird looking wizard boy trying to fend off a zombie. He looked like he was trying to cast another spell, but got his wand bitten off by the zombie. The wizard boy tried running towards us, but his knocks against the glass door did nothing but annoy us. "You fools! Help me! I'm the Chosen One! I'm Harry Potter!" He wasn't able to complain much longer after that since the zombie had grabbed his spine by its teeth and ripped it out.   
  
We all got a kick out of that. I think Sharon used some old cliché along the lines of "kids these days" while the eating was taking place. Since we were up anyways, the baker got us a few donuts and went in the back to make some more. Sharon and I sat down at our usual table. "So, it looks like things went pretty well yesterday."   
  
"Yeah. I didn't get much, but you have to expect those kinds of days."   
  
"I wouldn't know what that's like. We had boring days back at the pizza place, but I'm sure that was nothing."   
  
"Yesterday was basically nothing. Mostly baking, racing and observation. I may have to check back at the house again today to see which unfortunate fool gets it this time."   
  
"Nothing at all? All that came out of your new guy's mouth was just trash?"   
  
There was a slight pause as something came back into my mind. "Oh, there was one thing. I completely forgot about it until now. The guy was talking about that band, the Runaway Five. I guess they helped him get where he was and would know something. I'll have to go to them today, but time really is running out pretty quickly. I must have less time than most people spend watching TV nowadays."   
  
"You always seem to find something, Strong. Don't expect anything, but I'll see if I can do anything too."   
  
"That would help, but I wouldn't want you to do too much. Especially with all the early sunset business now."   
  
"I know. With all these slow days around here, I've probably watched that more closely than you have."   
  
Later that morning, I was lucky enough to see a cab going by. I was already outside, so I got it to stop and got in. Thankfully, the chain of luck didn't stop and the cab was empty.   
  
Later that morning, I was lucky enough to see a cab going by. I was already outside, so I got it to stop and got in. Thankfully, the chain of luck didn't stop and the cab was empty. "Hey, how you doin," the cabbie asked. It was the same one I had last time.   
  
"Pretty good. You?"   
  
"Same old. Driving the cab, almost got drunk by the undead."   
  
"True. True." Not wanting to get off-track, I quickly changed the subject. "So, some guy I was talking to last night told me to go to these people."   
  
"What kind of people? Mafia people? Religious people?"   
  
"No, these people that should know stuff on the zombie crap. You ever heard of the Runaway Five?"   
  
"Heard of them? I grew up on their stuff."   
  
"Yeah, apparently they got a bit. You know where they are?"   
  
"Sure. Let me take you there."   
  
We were there within a few minutes. I handed the cabbie the cash then knocked on the plain-looking door that I never would have guessed belonged to them. "Hey, what do you want?", some guy sang in response to my knock. I tried to introduce myself, but wasn't able to say anything before he went on with his song. "What do you want, wa-ant. Come in and sit on the couch, oh on the couch." There was a bit of a do-wop, which I love, in there but I had to do something. I smacked him in the face, kneed him in the gut for a while and threw him into a bush.   
  
I saw someone familiar staring from the hall inside. "Sorry, he was off-key."   
  
"Oh, it's fine. That's just our butler. We call him Mr. Cheese." The guy looked at the bush and threw a mop at the lifeless body of the butler. "He'll know what to do with that later. I'm Lucky, come in."   
  
I went in and sat on that couch the butler was singing about. "Hi Lucky, I'm Captain Strong of the Onett police force. I heard you had a bit to say about the zombie situation here."   
  
"Sure. I knew it wasn't the same thing we had been through before. The band was doing a show out in Fourside and we got a weird-looking crowd that night. After the show, a few of them came in. One of them went straight to out our temporary drummer that night and looked him straight in the eyes. No conversation at all and he just froze. It's like they looked him right in the soul and flipped the switch down. Then the same thing happened to me and I'm not sure what happened after that."   
  
"That's all? I should just avoid eye contact?"   
  
"Yeah, that's it. You're the one who came to me, so don't complain."   
  
"Well, the guy I went to made it sound like you knew it all. Oh well, he was a bit of a nut job."   
  
"If you want more, there are these guys next door that should know something."   
  
"Thanks. I can't waste this extra time," I said, checking my watch. It was 11:30. I went next door and read the sheet of paper on the door. It told me the door was unlocked and to come in, so I did that. There was no floor. It was all dirt with nothing else in there but a giant hole. I climbed down the ladder with my flashlight in my left hand. When I got down, I saw that the tunnel I was in was surprisingly well-lit so I put the flashlight away. I slowly went through the series of tunnels, ready to shoot anything in there. When I got to the end of the set I was in, there were two more tunnels I could have gone through. For some reason, both were blocked by monkeys. One of them came up to me and must have been trying to tell me something, but I had no idea what he was trying to say. I needed to get a bit more information, so I pushed him out of the way. Apparently, he didn't like this and he started running at me. I kicked him in the head and ran down the hall.   
  
I reached another set of monkey tunnels and shot one in the head and ran down his hall. This repeated a few times until I reached an unguarded door with an enormous group of monkeys going after me. I opened the door, went in and put a nearby chair against it. Inside the room, there were two men. One was a younger looking Dalaamese kid. The other was an older looking aged man, both levitating. The older looking one came up to me and said, "I am Talah Rama. This is Prince Poo of Dalaam. I know what you seek, Captain Strong."   
  
"Is my badge really that easy to read? I always thought the other towns had better badges."   
  
"Yes, it is easy to read. Now, sit with us. In order to get the information you desire, you must contact the Mu."   
  
I had heard about this Mu stuff before but never was very fond of it. I sat down anyways and got in the position they were in. "Now, how do I get to this Mu?"   
  
"Your body must be at total peace. The Mu will find you. You do not find the Mu." I quickly hid the weird look of confusion and disapproval on my face. I tried getting into the state of mind described, but wasn't able to do it. After a while when my mind had gone onto other typical daydream thoughts, Talah Rama opened his Muriffic mouth. "I knew what you came in for the instant you opened the door. I now know what you must do. You must go to the hotel. But I feel that the Mu may have more to say."   
  
I opened my eyes because I knew if I had waited much longer with my eyes closed, I would have fallen asleep. But I probably would have been woken up by something that happened shortly before the Talah Rama's advice. Prince Poo let out a brief scream and I looked over to him to see what it was. Two zombies had entered the room and the first had no problem taking down Poo. The second one went after Talah Rama while the first was munching on some brain. Talah Rama went out of his meditation after Poo was attacked. I ran out of the room without any attempts by the zombies to get to me.   
  
I worked my way through the hallway leading to the Talah Rama's room, which was full of bloodied monkey bodies now and parts of those monkey bodies. I ran through the rest of the tunnels navigating mainly by instinct. I shot down a zombie in the first hall with the ladder and climbed that faster than anything else I've ever climbed. I looked at the front door, which I was confident I had shut. I had shut it. It had been broken down. It was only one O'clock. I ran out and it was pitch black outside. I saw a group of zombies breaking through the side of a house about a block down. I saw a blonde, geeky kid on some big mechanical device near that house. It looked like one of those huge lasers the bad guys use in the movies. The kid wasn't able to do anything with it. He was knocked off the machine and got eaten. He must have been Andouts's kid. Every other local inventor had gotten eaten.   
  
A familiar black van pulled up. "Yo foo, get in."   
  
I obeyed the T's command and jumped into the van. "What's going on?"   
  
"It's started. From now until sunrise November 1st, we ain't seein no sun. It looks like this gives those undead suckas a bit more. It's October 30th." 


	8. VIII

"Hey T, are you going anywhere yet?"   
  
"Not yet. I ain't smackin any of them with my van either. It's heckuva strong, but so are they."   
  
"Well, you think you could stop by the bakery?"   
  
"What for?" he asked as he started heading towards the bakery.   
  
"We need to pick a few people up. Don't worry, they'll come in through my side."   
  
"Dang straight they're coming in through your side." Mr. T beeped a few times as we got closer to the bakery, drawing no attention from the zombies but a bit from the human locals.   
  
Sharon ran into the van and Mr. T sped off without any hesitation. "The baker got eaten," she explained. "I broke a stale, old loaf of French bread over the zombie's head, ran out and locked him in. Thank God you got here in time."   
  
"Any ideas where we should go?" I had an idea but was hoping she had gotten the same thing out of the trip I sent her on.   
  
"Yeah. The guy I went to earlier today told me to go to the hotel. Mostly because it creeps him out. He said he heard stuff about it too, but it's like one of those childhood fears. He heard it so long ago he can't remember what there was to be afraid of."   
  
"I heard the same thing, but no reason. The guy seemed pretty reliable."   
  
"So what's the plan? The A-Team don't go in without a plan," T said. It was amazing how he was able to adjust all the jewelry on his upper limbs while driving around the small streets of Threed at over 70 MPH in an old van.   
  
"Ok, a plan. I'm sure these zombies didn't have much of a plan after they got here."   
  
"Well, T does. I pity the foos who do enough wrong to bring me in, but I don't just throw them and torch them. If that crazy Murdock thought like that, he never would have out-run the entire Russian army on a hand-built go-cart back in the 80's."   
  
"Ok, you just keep driving. Let me out near the tent and just keep going around like this. Remember to watch for me near the hotel." There was an awkward pause. "Don't worry, I have a backup plan. But I'm just keeping that to myself in case the zombies get you and try to interrogate you."   
  
"Now, that's better." Mr. T took his left hand off the wheel and started digging around under the driver's seat for something. "You've earned this. Use it, you know I did." He handed me the flamethrower he used with the A-Team. Just holding it made me want to bust some heads and dismember some zombies.   
  
Mr. T stopped while I was going over a potential situation in my head. "Good luck, Strong. Don't leave me with nothing but cheese pizzas and penny-tips," Sharon said, breaking me out of the brief daydream.   
  
"Don't worry. If you can take care of those zombies with a loaf of bread, I should have no problem with T's weaponry." I jumped out of the van and went behind the tent. There was no hesitation and the van sped off pretty quickly. I got myself ready for anything that could have happened then peered over at the hotel. It looked ordinary enough. I decided to take the long way out due to curiosity and glanced in the tent as I walked by the opening. I did a double take as a pair of white sneakers caught my attention. They were in the middle of the tent and to the right of them, I saw a young girl. She was blonde, alive but on her back. With an old-fashioned, but good-looking dress on, she was pretty stylish too. "You're not a corpse, right?"   
  
"Right, but stay where you are." I looked down at my feet, still on the soft grass. "There's this new sticky flooring here closer to the middle and I can't get off it. It's like fly paper."   
  
"Well, I can't just leave you here. I'm basically going on a suicide mission myself, so why not take a risk here?"   
  
"Go ahead, but I just don't see any way to get me out without getting yourself stuck."   
  
"Sure there is. I just need some time." I edged into the tent for cover, prodding the flooring with the flamethrower to check for stickiness. I only needed a few minutes then I decided to do things 80's style. I tested the flamethrower out and aimed it at the top of the tent. I set a bit of the cloth on fire and carved something I'd be able to grab with my new favorite tool. I stomped a bit of the fire out as the long piece fell to me. I threw it into the inner lining and carefully stepped across as the top of the roof burned slowly. I could have wheeled a few dozen geezers out of there. The tent was burning much slower than I had expected. She was able to grab onto one end of the flamethrower and it took a group effort to get her off the sticky flypaper-like ground. "Quick, the tent's on fire!", I shouted as we ran from the flaming thing. I never knew what to call tents. Sure, they can get big, but you'd never call it a separate building.   
  
"Jump!" It was expected. It was overdone. It was classic. We jumped as the flaming tent exploded, taking a conveniently placed table as cover. The girl began getting up to observe the flaming wreckage. "No, stay down," I warned. "The fire's spreading to the trash can." We both stared at the trash can as the tent fire grew. I jumped behind the table as I saw that it had reached the trash can. Surprisingly, the trash can took the fire normally. The brilliant flame simply rose slowly out of the metallic cylinder. We got up and started looking at the fiery mess we had caused.   
  
"The tree!", she warned as I leapt to the ground, taking her with me. The huge tree next to the trash can had caught fire and had exploded, just as, if not more, loudly than the tree.   
  
"Ok, I think that's everything," I said after a few moments on the ground. "I don't think anyone heard all that. Sure, blow up a few things is fine with the locals and the local undead. Just as long as you don't step on that squeaky board everyone finds at night." I got up, helped the girl up and realized I still didn't know who she was. "I'm Captain Strong of the Onett force. So, what's your name?"   
  
"I'm Paula and we're surrounded by a circle of zombies." I looked around and could have argued that it was an ellipse, not a circle. I decided I'd bring it up later. We went back-to-back and I took the western side of the oval. I pointed my flamethrower at the nearest zombie and pulled the trigger. I was covered in zombie flesh and whatever guts were left as the thing exploded. "Oh, sorry. I left it on 80's mode." I switched it off 80's and pulled again. The zombie fell down and convulsed a bit without any visible wounds. "Dang, I thought they took 40's mode off these things." I looked a bit more closely at the thing and switched it to 90's mode. I pulled once again and the zombie burned up quite nicely. "How you doin back there?"   
  
"Pretty good, Strong. These are easy to knock down, but I just can't keep them down." I looked over my shoulder. She was flinging some blue stuff at the zombies. It looked a bit like that thing Ness tried. I went back to my side and whipped out my pistol, which I was much more used to. I literally kicked a zombie's knees out and shot its shin-less body in the head. I pointed the flamethrower a bit more to the left and shot the zombies in front of me. I had taken care of most of the undead on my side and heard a drawn-out scream.   
  
"What happened?" I turned around quickly and forgot to turn off the flamethrower. I would have felt bad for my accidental torching of Paula's head if the zombie hadn't started gnawing on her legs. I apologized then took care of the zombie who had caused all of this. I shot two of the remaining zombies in the head, lit the last with the flamethrower and threw him into what was left of the flaming tent. 


	9. IX

I went into the hotel with a flashlight in the hand that wasn't wielding my trusty pistol. The hotel lobby was dark despite my high-powered flashlight. It wasn't dusty and full of cobwebs like I had pictured. It was pretty normal looking, but abandoned and had that general feeling of evil. I decided to check everything and went straight to the door almost completely even with the front door. It was the small, cramped ATM room. I looked for a light switch and looked at the ceiling, hoping for some evidence of lighting. Instead, I saw a flesh-hungry zombie hanging from the ceiling. I shot at it twice and its lifeless, mouth-less body fell to me. I threw it into the lobby and followed the sliding undead body. "Great," I said to myself. "What an ideal way to start this off." The zombie body remained lifeless and I went behind the counter. I took the keys, conveniently placed in the first drawer and went into the main hallway.   
  
I unlocked the first door and looked around. It was a small room with a fairly large bed. On the bed, there was a weird-looking kid with his index finger in the air. "You will die in here," he informed me in a creepy-sounding British accent. "You will be impaled, disemboweled then dismembered. Your mother will then be brought in to lecture you on your poor dying manners." I looked around the room and saw that a bunch of phrases notifying me of my death on the walls and ceiling. I yawned, but not intentionally. "You will be force-fed to your mother, who will be forced to give us feedback. We will add spices and condiments until you become quite pleasurable to eat. After her first two bites of this new good-tasting version of your body, she will be denied more of your flesh."   
  
"Ok kid, you had this coming." I whipped off my belt and took the kid on my knee. I sat on the bed and disciplined him just like his British zombie parents should have. "Don't complain about this kid. You just don't talk about a guy's death or his flesh like that. Where did you learn something like that anyways? I bet it was that MTV. Another thing, you just don't talk about a guy's mom that way. Sure, it's fine in casual conversation, but in your case, it's just plain disrespectful." He was crying pretty badly, but I was getting worked up. I managed to get a constant spanking speed going as I lectured him. "You will be force-fed to your mother," I said mockingly. "You think YOUR mother wants you talking like that? You want me to tell her what you said to me and what you did to this hotel room? This used to be a good hotel room. Look at it now. You messed up the bed, moved the sofa out of place, banged up the TV. And you wrote on the walls too. Your mother never told you not to write on the walls. You should be ashamed. This behavior, it's just pathetic. So is your writing. 'You have been dying since you have came into this hotel.' First issue - Way to misspell dying, junior. Secondly, learn some grammar. Came into this hotel? Come. Tense agreement, mofo. Oh, another brilliant example here. 'Your dead.' My dead? Sorry, I've never owned any dead. No living either. You expect me to be scared of a bunch of brain-dead kids and zombies? Go home, you pathetic piece of disappointment."   
  
I let the kid off and he ran out of the hotel crying. I walked out, convinced that there was nothing left in there. I broke into the next room and had just realized I still had the keys. I got pretty worked up over that kid. I saw something floating in the air that didn't look too different from the typical ghost. I shot at it, but the bullets just went through it. "I will haunt you, Captain Strong," it said eerily.   
  
I was surprised at first to see an actual ghost, but came to my senses. "Dude, whatever. You're a ghost. Not the cool, violent kind too. What are you going to do, float through me until I get annoyed and leave?"   
  
"I might if it comes to that."   
  
"Well, go right ahead," I said as I walked through him and to the refrigerator. "I have to deal with kids all the time. I make this annual trip to the preschooler and you'd be surprised how active they can be." I took out a coke and a nicely wrapped piece of pie and went over to the recliner.   
  
"Hey, come on. I was saving that. The only thing us transparent ghosts can touch is food. My mom made that."   
  
"Tell her to make some more. It's pretty good," I said as I flipped through the channels. Halfway through the pie, I had decided on Seinfeld and had blocked out the ghost, which had given up pretty quickly. After Seinfeld was over, I remembered the task at hand. I left the room and continued the search. The next room was empty and a waste of time, but the one after that turned out a bit more interesting. I heard someone in the bathroom, which was unlocked. She was singing and I was drawn to her, with both weapons in my hands. The back of her head was familiar, but that's just something you say and never mean. In fact, she had an ordinary back of the head with ordinary blonde hair.   
  
"Wow, it's Captain Strong," she said, revealing that same familiar accent. "I never thought you would have gotten this far. I thought you would have gone down right in that house I sent you to."   
  
"Why was I sent there?"   
  
"Because of me, the money and my naturally good looks. 15 years young. In undead years. I died when I was 45. Pretty good for a middle-aged girl, don't you think?"   
  
"Sorry, I don't date the undead. Same thing with vegetarians. I'd just never get used to the eating habits."   
  
"I'm committed to one man and one man only, honey. Oh, now I remember why I didn't have you killed off. He works with you. I felt a bit sorry for him."   
  
"That station was shaky enough before I left. I feel sorry for him too. The other guys never get anything done."   
  
"You weren't that hot either, Strong. You were brought in here to get eaten, so stop hesitating. Even if you do get out of here, you'll just get eaten in here. We have the hotel entrance blocked."   
  
"Eaten? That's all?" A dagger answered for her. I caught the arm before it got close. "You've been dead for 15 years? That lack of living experience is really showing. For a cop wife, you have terrible aim." I took the dagger and stabbed her soft, but in the unique zombie way, gut and plugged her twice in the head.   
  
I re-loaded my gun and went into the next room. Mr. T was in there with five zombies playing some card game. "Yo foo, we've been looking for you. I just caught up with some high school friends while I was waiting."   
  
"So, what's on the line?"   
  
"Our souls." The zombies put down their cards and one of them said, "You lose."   
  
"Hey foo, you cheated." Before Mr. T was able to make a bigger argument, his had had been broken open and his brains were being eaten. I shot at a few of the zombies then ran. I tried lighting the walls on fire with the flame thrower as I ran through the hall, but I'm not sure if I was successful. I ran outside and saw something flying past my head. I looked behind me and that object had been lodged in a zombie's head. I continued going further away from the hotel and saw Sharon outside the van with a big bag of bagels.   
  
"Hey, I guess I'm just good with bread. Get in. On the driver's side this time." I followed her orders as she killed off some more zombies with her bagels. I started the van and slowly drove from the hotel. I went down and saw that I had quite a few zombies to plow down. I sped down the street, but pulled a 180 while going through the sea of zombies. A few of them clung on, but I managed to fling them off as I veered wildly yet smartly. I told Sharon to watch the streets and she told me all of them were blocked. I was forced to drive through the cemetery gate and over the surprisingly open field of tombstones. Our getaway was interrupted after we hit a huge hole that was easy to miss due to the darkness.   
  
We climbed out easily, but zombies were closing in from all sides. I had the flamethrower going while I shot some zombies from the driver's side of the van while Sharon used her bagels. "I'm out of bagels and I was only able to kill one of them with the bag!"   
  
"Get on the roof! I'll take care of them!" I climbed on as well. "Oh, even better - try to use this thing." I handed her Mr. T's flamethrower and she was torching zombies with ease. The zombies were getting closer and I was running low on bullets. "Well, this is it. Last ditch effort; Jump into them." I leapt into the massive crowd of zombies, shooting wildly. I was lucky enough to land on the soft grass. I looked at my watch. It was November 1st and I had just noticed the sunrise. The zombies were heading into the cemetery forest and I began looking for Sharon. I just laid on the ground out of exhaustion and lack of desire to do anything else as I saw her open, brainless body being dragged with the zombies. 


	10. Breif Epilogue

Right after I got back to my office in Onett, I was notified of all the work I had to get done that had been building up. Still exhausted, I wasn't going to take that. I wasn't able to forget everything that had happened that month either. I locked the doors as my assistant cluelessly thought I simply wanted privacy with him. I took out a load of French bread I had bought earlier, impaled him on it and ate his brains. 


End file.
